This Is Going To Need Researching
by PotterGatsbyHolmes
Summary: Sherlock has developed feelings. For Molly Hooper. How? Why? WHAT'S GOING ON JOHN? A it of a funny/fluffy story about the Great Sherlock Holmes trying to research romance... For JudgeTenderlyofMe and whoever else might feel obliged to read this masterpiece. Enjoy! (tiny itsy bitsy pieces of Johnlock and Molstrade...but first and foremost SHERLOLLY.)


**THIS IS GOING TO NEED SOME RESEARCH**

**I wrote this for you, Ashlee; because you are such a splendid human being and never fail to teach me so many things. You deserve a bit more Sherlolly in your life. Although I am a hardcore Johnlock shipper, and have tried to accommodate some of the Lestrade/Hooper shippers, I have tried my best to create something nice enough for you. I do not own Sherlock Holmes & Co. or any of the already existing things mentioned. Otherwise I would not be sitting in a hot caravan typing on a three year old laptop slowly dying of over-storage. Please enjoy!**

Sherlock didn't understand.

Molly didn't count. Molly never counted. He'd always thought Molly never _would _count. And yet…

"Coffee," she squeaked, placing a brown mug in front of him.

"Thank you, Molly." he said. He did not look up from his microscope as he spoke, but as she turned away he stole a look at her. She was wearing the new earrings Lestrade had given her for Christmas. He didn't like that. But he didn't know why he didn't.

And Sherlock Holmes never likes to not know.

When he got home, he brought the subject up with John, whom he knew was more familiar with the "emotion" side of things. He scowled at the very thought. Perhaps he should leave Molly's name out of this. Something told him if it was something bad (for instance, actual feelings) he wouldn't want her to be subject to ridicule.

"John." he said, sitting down across from the doctor.

"Sherlock." he replied from behind a newspaper.

"I was doing a bit of… reading today and came across a vaguely interesting plotline. I thought perhaps you might illuminate me upon the variables causing the –"

"What was it, Sherlock?" John let his newspaper fall to his lap. This was new.

"Well, there was a man who noticed a woman he knew was wearing jewellery he knew another man had given to her." A pause. "And he didn't feel happy about it. He didn't know what he felt, but it was not very 'good'. What do you make of it?"

"Easy. A few questions first." Sherlock placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward in his chair.

"Fire away." John smirked and coughed quietly.

"Does this man find this girl physically attractive?"

Sherlock thought for a moment, recalling all the times Molly had smiled (the best being with lipstick – she did have quite a small mouth), the Christmas she came over in that ridiculous dress (he had to admit she looked a little bit nice) and when she concentrated over a tray of e-coli, not paying attention to anything else.

"Yes."

"Okay," John continued, "does he find her smart?"

"In her area of work? Yes. Socially?" He moved his hand in a see saw gesture. "Not so much."

"But he likes her?" Sherlock was confused.

"You could say that, yes. I suppose. I mean… as a friend. I -" Sherlock's train of thought had left the station and was now doing laps around everything he knew about attraction and trying to match it up with what he felt for Molly. But… it couldn't be…

John laughed.

"Well it's obvious. I would've thought you, of all people, would've been able to figure that one out."

"John." Sherlock was getting frustrated.

"Sherlock, this man, whom I know is you by the way," Sherlock let out a noise of useless protestation. "Is jealous." Jaw drop.

"Jealous?" he hissed.

"Yes, Sherlock. Jealous." said John to his flatmate's stunned face. "Now, I don't know who this mystery woman is, but I'd say if she feels the same way, then you'd better jump aboard that train, my friend, because it's arrival would be very rare for you."

"What do you mean by that?" he said defensively, "And how do I find out if she feels the same?"

"You're a genius, Sherlock. You've got a better chance of figuring it out than any of the rest of us." replied John, walking into the kitchen and turning on the kettle. "Cuppa?"

"No, John. I think I need to do some research." he said, and leapt out the door, almost forgetting his scarf.

John sighed in the kitchen. He had guessed this day would come along, some time. And he had a pretty good guess he wasn't the woman Sherlock was talking about. His left hand shook as he poured the tea.

When Sherlock came home, John was eating a turkey sandwich. Alone.

"Where've you beed?" he mumbled through a mouthful of bread. "It's been free hours."

The consulting detective dumped two whole bags full of DVDs onto his seat and looked at John expectantly.

"Um… good job?" the doctor offered.

"This is my research, John!" John got out of his chair and looked into the bags…

_Love Actually, Romeo and Juliet (Lurhmann version), The Holiday, Moulin Rouge, Strictly Ballroom… _and more. Almost every movie ever made about love and/or emotions was in those bags. It seems Sherlock was preparing himself. For what, John didn't want to know.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was wondering why he hadn't watched these before. Some of the characters were complex and he enjoyed deducing the actor's personal life at the times the scenes were shot. But mostly he would take notes. Why a person found another person attractive (they would normally outline these reasons in 'The Declaration') and the common denominators were smart (which Molly certainly was), funny (that was a grey area) and sexy. Sherlock wasn't sure what that entailed or what its criteria was, but he did feel a strange pull towards Molly Hooper that he could not distract himself from. Especially since the 'Lestrade' incident. He'd read somewhere that "Love is desire sustained by unfulfilment", and thought about his increased interest after the jewellery… Regardless, now he felt confused and torn and he did not fully understand; both his feelings towards Molly and why John kept staring at him from across the room.

"What's the matter?" he snapped.

"You kept saying 'Molly'." John looked hurt. Sherlock did not know why.

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did. I heard you. A couple of times now, actually." He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat.

"Uh…" Sherlock did not know what to do.

"Is it her? Molly? Is she the lady you were talking about?" John saw something in his friend's face that confirmed his suspicions and relaxed a little bit. Molly was sweet. Molly was nice. If Sherlock was going to be with anyone other than him, he was glad it would be Molly Hooper. He lifted himself out of the chair with a sigh.

"Good night, Sherlock."

Sherlock was left staring at John's Union Jack pillow, wondering what he would do next.

Everyone had gone home for the night from St Bart's. Almost everyone.

"Good evening, Molly."

The mousy young woman turned around quickly.

"Oh! Sherlock. I haven't seen you since lunch."

"Yes." A deep, one word answer. _That's not good enough, Sherlock._

"Yes." Molly looked awkward.

"Listen Molly, I seem to have come to a rather alarming conclusion about our relationship. It was, as I understand it, purely work-related."

"Oh. I would've thought it was a bit more than work related…" Molly replied offhandedly and wringing her hands.

"Please don't interrupt."

"Okay."

"As I was saying, purely work-related. However, after vigorous research (his mind flickered back to his viewing of _The Princess Bride_) and much deduction, I have decided that I, Sherlock Holmes, feel romantic affection for you, Molly Hooper."

Silence.

Hmmm. This isn't what happened in the films. Did he miss something? She was just sort of standing there. Was she stunned? Offended? Pleased? For the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes truly wished someone would someone would be pleased with his actions. Just once…

"You do?" Molly whispered.

"Yes, Molly." _Elaborate. _"You've always counted." Her eyes widened and mouth dropped openly slightly into a small, un-lip sticked 'O'. Sherlock gave a small smile. He realised now, she really was quite pretty.

"Will you do something for me then, Sherlock?"

"Anything." he said simply. "Who do you want me to kill?" he smirked. She laughed nervously.

"Um... Maybe you could just… kiss me… now?" She bit her lip and looked up at him with doe eyes.

"Miss Hooper," Sherlock said, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing he close into his coat, "nothing would give me greater pleasure." This was what he knew he was supposed to say, but in the ensuing action he knew he had never felt a more powerful adrenaline rush. He should do some experiments on this… No, wait, perhaps…later…

In his office, Greg Lestrade sat at his desk, summoning the courage to ask Molly Hooper out on a date. He'd fancied her for a while, and seeing as New Years was coming up… He placed the photo of his wife face down. Looking out his window, and feeling freer than ever, he smiled.

Inside 221b, Mrs Hudson had gone out for dinner with the owner of Speedy's downstairs. John Watson sat in his chair watching one of the films Sherlock had brought home. He wasn't one to cry, Doctor Watson, so he simply sat and let the sadness float about inside him. Eventually he got up with a sigh (he sighed at lot these days) to look out the window. A beautiful blonde woman was walking down the street, coat collar up against the wind. He remembered the Pink Lady and slumped back into his chair, watching the snow fall outside the window, like frosted tears.

Sherlock could never remember being happier. He and Molly walked down a brightly lit street, the London Eye a shining beacon across the water. Every twenty steps, Sherlock would stop them and stoop for another kiss. He sincerely couldn't get enough. He knew he was slipping into an addiction. To Molly Hooper.


End file.
